Shingeki no Kyojin: Baby Series
by Phyari
Summary: Collection of drabbles involving Shingeki no Kyojin characters and their children.
1. Papa Rivaille

**First drabble, featuring Rivaille and his baby daughter.**

**I decided to move all the drabbles together and post them under the same title, instead of posting them as separate stories. Hope you enjoy them~ If you have any requests, just send a PM or leave a review :)**

* * *

**Chapter 1: _Papa Rivaille_**

Rivaille, proud soldier, dedicated to the army, loyal to his cause. Rivaille, harsh corporal under who's firm glare no soldier even dares to flinch. Rivaille, the strongest fighter the army has, the shiniest ray of hope humanity has seen, the man who has the most capable hands in commander Erwin's troops. Both when it comes to combat against evil, as we'll as combat against dirt.

Corporal Rivaille has a free day from work.

And, without failing his reputation, his house is as spotless as his performance. Proud to have finished cleaning even unseen specks of dirt from the kitchen – his kitchen, the very same kitchen he procures his food from, so he can't have it any other way – he walks away, heading to the exit at the end of the hallway. A good breath of fresh air had always been welcomed.

It is not like he enjoys cleaning. He doesn't, in fact. What he enjoys is feeling clean, having every single object around him spotless. And that is a hard task, particularly because kids aren't the most clean creatures one can have around.

Heading to the door, he can't help casting a glance in each room he passes by. Each room he had cleaned only a bit earlier. Passing by his daughter's room – his four years old daughter, one kid that can perfectly fit into that category of "not very clean, or not clean at all" – his eyes widen for a split second, as slight anger is stirred inside him by the mere image of his daughter's huge toy container fallen over, with its contents scattered around the room. Around the previously clean room. The horror. He sighs, however, and enters the room to see his daughter sleeping soundly on the floor, the upper half of her body hidden under the bed.

He sighs louder, once again. He kneels down on the colored carpet, and starts sorting out the toys, putting them back together and in place. He couldn't imagine kids need that many toys. He can even bet his daughter wouldn't even notice the absence of half the toys in that box. Sorting through them, he notices some horses - reminding himself, almost with a smile on his face – almost, because he is Corporal Rivaille – that his daughter loves horses. Pink, black, brown, white toy horses. With thick manes and long tails. All of them braided – his baby girl has just learned how to braid. He scowls at the sight of messy artificial hair, tangled and untidy. Without a second thought, he grabs his daughter's toy brush, and starts grooming the horses – all of them, because he can't do only half of the job. Because he is Corporal Rivaille.

Caught in his job, because he always fulfills his duty with so much focus and dedication, never failing, he doesn't notice his daughter pulling herself out of under her bed, and staring at her father who is sitting, cross-legged, on an orange-pink carpet with blue flowers, brushing her horses with much dedication and care.

"What are you doing, daddy?"

The cute mumble makes his entire body go stiff.


	2. Chicken - Jean

**Chapter 2: _Chicken_**

It was close to 9 PM, in a loud, stormy night of late September. Autumn had already started to show the first signs – it seemed like summer was putting the last bits of strength it had into that violent storm outside. It was dark, only the sound of the TV accompanied the thunders and rustling wind outside. Tired, the tall, light brown haired man stood up from his seat on the couch, feeling sleep starting to take over his body. With his eyes half closed, he stretched his arms above his head and looked around the room. By the window, at the desk, the eyes of his wife followed the rows of writing on the pages of a book, at the light of a small lamp. At the other end of the couch, the man saw his three years old son starting to doze off as well. He could bet it was long ago when the small boy stopped following the television. The thunders kept roaring outside.

"Jean." The sound of his wife's voice broke away his stare from the boy's figure. She had a soft smile on her face as she got up from her seat as well.

"Yeah." Jean nodded, smiling in response. He walked to the couch and picked up the tiny boy in his arms.

"It's already late." The same soft smile graced his wife's lips. He felt her hand on his shoulder as they entered their son's room.

As Jean turned on the lights, his son's eyes stirred open. "Daddy? What happened to Mr. Carrot?" The cartoons the kid had been watching earlier. Jean could only chuckle at the curiosity in that tired mumble. Another thunder could be heard in the distance.

He walked to the bed, pulled the covers away and placed the boy on it, gently laying his head on the pillow. The kid was already tired. Covering his body with the blanket, he bent down and kissed his son's forehead. "It's time to sleep, big boy."

Jean's wife walked to the other side of the bed, and sat down beside her son. The rain was falling hard against the window, the thunder joining in soon after the lightning lit the room for a split second. Looking at his mother's smiling face, the boy asked, a small light in his eyes dancing, "Mommy, can you sleep with me tonight?"

"You're a big boy already," Jean replied softly, yet lightheartedly firm, on a somehow mocking tone, encouraging the boy, "Didn't we talk before about you sleeping by yourself?"

The boy spared a short glance to his father, his expression unchanged. Jean felt amused at how that quick glance seemed more like a warning than a sign that the kid heard what he said. "Please, mommy?" He tried again, his voice forcedly childish and scared, "I'm scared of the storm."

It wasn't the first time that the gleam in his eyes danced like that. It was only natural for parents to know to what extent could their three years old's sharp mind go. "Sweetie, I have to sleep with daddy."

In a split second, the frightened look in those big pleading eyes vanished, as the boy turned to his side, glaring at his father with discontent eyes.

"Daddy's such a chicken." The kid mumbled and sharply pulled the blanket over his head.

Taken aback, it took Jean a few seconds to allow laughter to escape his lips. Wholehearted laughter. And he couldn't decide whether he was laughing at the innocently blaming grunt on his son's face, or at the fact that the kid thought Jean was afraid of the storm.


	3. Cookies of Love - Sasha&Connie

**Chapter 3: _Cookies of Love_**

She woke up. Glancing out the window by their bed, she saw the stars glittering in peace on the darkened sky. It was still the middle of the night, and one look at the clock on the wall assured her of that – it was 2 AM. She got up in a sitting position, and started pondering whether she should get up or not.

"Sasha, get back to sleep." The lazy, sleepy voice of Connie called from beside her, as he reached a hand up to grab her shoulder and pull her back on the bed. She soon found herself laying down, Connie's hand lazily resting on her stomach.

But she couldn't help it – she just couldn't sleep without _that_ thing. She glanced around, waiting, though impatient, to make sure Connie's breathing was slow and steady, then smoothly rolled out of the bed, using her hands to stop her fall, as Connie's arm fell down on the mattress.

Alright, she was out of the bed and Connie didn't seem to have noticed. He was still sleeping soundly – a few seconds after Sasha slipped out of the bed, he started snoring lightly. She grinned to herself. She got up on her feet, careful not to make any sound, and walked out of the room.

She listened to the still night. She could feel the sleep _sleeping_ in the house; everything was still, lifeless, caught in a profound slumber. Everything but the crickets outside. Walking through the hallway, she decided there was no danger of waking Connie up anymore, so she quickened her careful, slow steps, into a regular pace.

Sasha soon reached the kitchen. She almost grinned in anticipation, but the grin quickly turned into a yawn, as she covered her mouth and headed to the counter. She stretched her hand up, rising on the tips of her toes, reaching for a certain orange cookie jar on the top of the cabinet, and brought it down. Wrapping one arm around it, she slowly took the lid off and placed it on the counter, then licked her lips before digging her hand in, bringing out a round, solid mass of sweetness and crunchiness with small chocolate and dried fruit pieces – how she felt her mouth water only at the thought of it. She contently took one bite of the fulfilling snack, enjoying every second of it. Finishing one cookie, she glanced inside the jar, and took out another one. She stuffed the entire cookie in her mouth.

"Daddy, mommy is eating my cookies again!" A high pitched voice called loudly. Sasha turned in surprise to look at her four years old daughter, who was staring at her, accusingly, from the kitchen entrance.

Sasha chewed on the cookie – once, twice, the kid's accusing glare hardening with every move of Sasha's jaw. She guiltily swallowed the half-chewed cookie when she saw Connie's scolding stare as he showed up behind their daughter.

* * *

"I regret nothing!" Sasha yelled, slamming her forehead down, as she spread her upper body on the kitchen table, her arms stretched forward. She was sitting down on one side, with Connie sitting on her left.

"Sasha…" He shook his head in exasperation at his wife's antics. He had taken their daughter back to sleep, but he just needed to scold Sasha. It wasn't the first time their daughter had complained about her food disappearing. "Those are the kid's snacks!"

"But it's so good, Connie, it's so good!" Sasha looked up at him, her eyes almost teary in awe. "They're large, gooey, they crunch between your teeth, and you hear that crumbling sound in your head," Her hands were almost trembling, as she stared ahead with unfocused eyes, her entire self being focused on the mental image she had of the said cookies. Connie knew that, at that point, she was going to start drooling soon. But she turned her attention back to him, her hands grasping the ends of the table, inching closer to him with each exclamation she made, "Some chunks of chocolate are bitter, while some are milk chocolate, Connie! And it has nuts! And Raisins! And pieces of dried peach!"

He slowly leaned backwards, away from her, "Sasha, they're still the kid's cookies."

A mad grin made its way to Sasha's face. She slid one hand in her pocket, while inching closer to him, and took out a cookie. Carefully breaking a small part of it, she pushed it into Connie's face, "Eat it, Connie! Eat it! You'll see how good it is!"

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for the support, reviews, favorites and follows :D For any request, send a PM or leave a message.**


	4. Jaeger's Brat - Rivaille

**Fourth drabble, featuring Eren's and Mikasa's son, and the kid's encounter with the Corporal. Another fluffy drabble, written for MatsuGlare, who enjoys reading about Rivaille so much :3 **

**And a disclaimer, since I haven't done that yet? I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin, of course.**

* * *

**Chapter 4: _Jaeger's Brat_**

"Jaeger. I thought you had better things to do than going around breeding in my branch and disabling one of our good soldiers." Rivaille called, not taking his eyes off the small creature in front of him. The little boy had short, soft dark hair and vivid, playful turquoise eyes that gleamed with life. Rivaille stared down at those turquoise eyes with a scowl – he couldn't help but see in him a smaller, more innocent version of Eren Jaeger.

Mikasa had brought her son, Mikael, in a visit at the Scouting Legion Headquarters. The four years old boy had insisted that he wanted to see his father, Eren, who didn't visit home in the past month. The times were of peace, though, but there was still work to do, there were still expeditions outside the walls that Mikasa was waiting through with pain in her heart, there were still titans to fight, titans that Eren was facing every time he stepped outside the wall. But Mikasa had grown up, learning to accept she had to leave Eren's side for the sake of their son. So she had given up the Scouting Legion, a decision they both made together, concluding, with grim expressions on their faces, that their son would lead an easier life with his mother, in case Eren was to die.

So there they were, four years after Mikael's birth, outside the Scouting Legion Headquarters, Eren and Armin watching from afar as Rivaille, crouched down at the kid's eye level, was glaring at the innocent being in front of him.

The kid squealed in delight as he reached up, grabbing Rivaille's nose and laughing, crystalline innocent laughter filling the air. The look on Rivaille's face was a mix of shock, annoyance and something that looked like a disgusted expression. He slapped the kid's hand away, and called, "Jaeger, take your shitty, filthy brat away from me." But, in response, Eren's son only laughed harder, entertained by the older man. No matter how hard the Corporal glared, it seemed like the subject of his spontaneous hatred wasn't a bit affected by it. He scowled, "You can't expect a shitty brat to breed anything else than a shitty brat." Rivaille got up to his feet, and took only one step to walk away, when he felt a pair of small hands tugging at his pants, then encircling around his knee. He looked down to see the mini-Jaeger smiling up at him. His brow twitched.

* * *

"Eren, where is Mikael?" Armin asked, looking up at a confused, somehow frightened Eren.

"I have no idea, Armin, no damn idea. I've lost him, and Mikasa is gonna find out, find Mikael, and cook me for dinner." He fidgeted, looking around frantically, as if, in some kind of magic, his son was going to fall from the sky, in front of him. He had asked around, but to no avail. He didn't even know how he lost Mikael, but he was on his way to Sasha, who had taken a liking to the kid even from the first time she had seen him, three months after his birth, hoping Mikael had ran away to her.

"Jaeger!" The Lance Corporal's angered voice thundered with an echo through the halls of the Scouting Legion Headquarters. The moment the voice reached Eren's ears and he realized how the solution to his momentary problem meant the start of another problem. And he cursed under his breath when he couldn't make up his mind whether he feared Mikasa or Rivaille more.

Running through the hallways towards the Corporal's office, with Armin behind him, Eren burst through the door, ready to splutter out apologizes. Though, he froze in his spot, fighting back laughter with much effort. It was only when Armin arrived a few moments later and started chuckling, when Eren burst out laughing at the sight of Rivaille, his office a mess, his coffee all over his white shirt as well as little Mikael's face, as the kid was giggling almost hysterically at the Corporal's glare.

Eren could only hope that the child Mikasa was going to give birth to, after four months, was going to act more like Mikasa than like him.

* * *

**Mikael's name is an uninspired combination of Mikasa and Eren, because the kid needed a name. ****So that's it, hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for all the support, everyone :D**


End file.
